


Macho Man

by MsThunderFrost



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Handcuffs, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kissing, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Power Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Referenced Felching, referenced blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22488289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: Jaskier decides to...serenadeGeralt while they’re having sex. Geralt is absolutely mortified... and oddly turned on. Jaskier just wants to show hismacho mansome love... and maybe break the bed while they’re at it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 363





	Macho Man

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, how did I make it 22 years in life without ever hearing the entirety of Macho Man by the Village People? I listened to it a whole _one_ time, and this mess was born. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it XD

“Is this…  _ really _ necessary?” Geralt looks like he’s physically in  _ pain _ as  _ Macho Man _ blasts through the wireless bluetooth speaker situated above their bed--but, to be fair, that could have less to do with the music and more to do with the fact that he’d been balls-deep in Jaskier for something like seven minutes and his boyfriend  _ refused to move _ . 

Jaskier is intimately familiar with every inch of Geralt’s body, but the other man’s sheer  _ size _ never fails to make his thighs  _ quake _ . He shifts his hips ever so slightly, leaning forward to trace his fingers over olive-colored skin, stretched taut over firm, sinewy muscle, “ _ Fuck _ , Geralt… how much did you bench earlier? Two-hundred? Two twenty-five?”

Jaskier’s nails glide over dusky nipples, leaving deep, red  _ scratches _ in their wake, as the other tries to force his brain to cooperate long enough to form semi-coherent words. “I, uh… Two seventy-five, maybe? I don’t actually remember--,”

“That’s like…  _ two _ of me, Jesus.” Cornflower blue eyes widen marginally, “And you’re not like… tired, or anything?”

“...Not particularly.” He sighs, “I probably could’ve done three-hundred, if I’d wanted. But then you suggested you’d be up for some… post-workout  _ fun _ , provided I didn’t strain myself too hard, and--,”

The brunette curls his fingers around the handcuff chain keeping Geralt’s hands locked above his head, “You mean to tell me that you  _ weren’t _ expecting this?” He asks, rolling his hips in a slow, lazy circle as the Village People croon  _ body, wanna feel my body _ ? 

“If by  _ this _ , you mean getting cuffed to my own bed while you try to see if it’s possible to kill someone through  _ cockwarming _ , then no.” He rolls his amber eyes, “Speaking of which, are you planning to… you know,  _ move _ in the next century?”

“Body… it’s so  _ hot _ , my body…” Nope, that pained expression is  _ definitely _ from the song. Jaskier’s lips curl up in a wicked little grin as he sings louder, “Body… love to  _ please _ , my body… Body… don’t you  _ tease, _ my body…”

“God, but you have questionable taste in music.” That absolutely devious grin seems to  _ grow _ as Jaskier reaches for his phone and turns the music up until the shelf above their bed begins to rattle. They were  _ definitely _ going to be hearing about this tomorrow. “...Do you have this on  _ repeat _ ? Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Hmm… that I dig the _ hair on your chest _ … and your  _ broad shoulders _ ,” Jaskier’s hands snake up, tracing over those tremendous shoulders, feeling the bones shifting beneath his fingertips as Geralt adjusts beneath him, “and your  _ muscles _ . Umph…” his little lark is hit by a full-body shiver that has him clamping down deliciously  _ tight _ on Geralt’s cock.

The chorus seems to  _ invigorate _ him, because when his boyfriend begins to move, it’s with enough ferocity to make the damn bed  _ creak _ . Geralt moans, low and sweet, feeling like the all of the air had just been  _ punched _ out of his lungs. That is… holy  _ shit _ , talk about going from zero to one-hundred in a matter of seconds. Is he… fuck, is he trying to match the song’s tempo? Apparently, his skinny little lark was determined to improve his cardio--forty-five minutes sprinting on the goddamned treadmill wasn’t enough for him. Even though his legs had been like gelatin as they’d left the gym, and Geralt had all but had to  _ carry _ him to the car, evidently he’d been dicking around long enough to recover some degree of stamina. 

Geralt strains against the handcuffs, listening to their old wooden headboard  _ groan _ at the sudden strain--the bed had definitely seen better days, and it wouldn’t take much for him to come at least one step closer to freeing his arms. But they’re also not exactly swimming in cash, and while Jaskier might find the display disgustingly arousing in the moment, he doesn’t want to subject himself to the  _ hours _ of bitching that were sure to follow once Jaskier regained his head. So instead, he curls his fingers around the short chain connecting the cuffs, infinitely thankful to have something to hold on to as Jaskier continues to  _ rut _ against him, driving himself down on Geralt’s thick, aching arousal with what could only be deemed near-bruising force.

Jaskier’s beautiful hands, calloused from years’ worth of working with various stringed instruments, clamp down onto his sides, holding him so very tight as he shifts to find a better angle. He knows the moment the head of his cock drags over the smaller man’s prostate, feels the way his arms tremble and his dick pulses as he fucking  _ drools _ , begging Geralt for more, faster,  _ harder _ \--seemingly not cognizant of the fact that Geralt is barely doing any work at all. In fact, it’s taking every ounce of Geralt’s self-control not to pop-off early, wanting to see the way his beautiful songbird looked as he fell apart on his cock. But then… just as soon as the thrusting began, it comes to a sudden halt, Jaskier flashing him a wobbly, flushed-face grin.

“You’ll… You’ll  _ adore _ my body…” how he still has the breath to sing, when he looks about two seconds away from passing out, is anyone’s guess. He bends, in an absolutely  _ delicious _ display of flexibility, to swirl his tongue around one of Geralt’s dusky nipples. “Come… Come  _ explore _ my body, baby…”

“Fuck…” he growls, pitching forward with enough force to make the headboard  _ squeal _ . “Why did you  _ stop _ ?”

Jaskier rocks his hips in slow, lazy circles, reaching down to give his cock a few half-hearted tugs as he responds, voice dripping innocence, “Well, I thought that that would be fairly obvious, dear. I’m  _ exploring _ your body.”

“And that cannot wait until after I’ve cum because…?” He’s tempted to cuff Jaskier to the bed and see how he likes it when the shoe is on the other foot… but he dismisses the thought almost as soon as it comes, knowing that he doesn’t stand a chance against those pitiful, puppy-dog eyes he wields with all the ferocity of a blade…

Though, if Jaskier were to fuck  _ him _ … He could sit on the musician’s lap and keep him pinned to the couch, or the bed, or the  _ counter _ with just his superior weight. The sheer amount of  _ muscle _ on his hulking frame means that he carries significantly more weight than Jaskier, and while Jaskier is  _ fit _ , he’s built for speed, not power. Hngh… Nothing got him going quite like the sheer size difference between himself and his boyfriend. He looks so small, so  _ fragile _ beside him, like a delicate flower in need of protection. Although… Jaskier might not have a problem with Geralt protecting him, but he would  _ definitely _ take umbrage with being compared to a  _ flower _ . He cannot help but snort at the thought.

And if the lyrics of this song were to be believed--dear lord, had it started over  _ again _ ?--Jaskier definitely found his body attractive. Not that he’d really… you know,  _ doubted _ that, but… it’s still nice to hear, sometimes. Not that he’d ever actually admit that to Jaskier. There is absolutely no reason to let that musician get an even  _ more _ swollen head than he already had. Jaskier is still singing softly beneath his breath as he trails his tongue along the gloriously thick muscles that line Geralt’s upper torso, and when he begins to move his hips again, his thrusts are slower, more controlled… the chain leaves dark, heavy imprints upon his fingers as he  _ tugs _ , wanting desperately to be able to touch, feel, taste…  _ anything _ , really, so long as it brought him closer to Jaskier.

Jaskier strokes himself faster, tiny beads of translucent pre-cum bubbling from his slit to slick the slide of flesh-on-flesh. “Well, big guy? ‘M I making you feel  _ good _ ?” He purrs, licking his lips as he grinds his hips in a special way that has the other seeing stars.

“D-Don’t ask stupid questions.” Geralt swears that he can feel heat pooling in his cheeks, and he’ll deny it up until his dying day. “Especially… when you already know the answer.”  _ Fuck _ , his stomach is like a lake of molten lava. He can feel the earth trembling beneath him, falling away into nothingness, as his body readies for the inevitable explosion.

“Mmm… I’m feeling particularly  _ hungry _ tonight, my sweet white wolf.” He curls his fingers in the chain of Geralt’s necklace, tugging lightly and delighting in the soft grunt the other releases. “I think… I’ll gladly take everything you have to give.”

“J-Julian?” Geralt raises an eyebrow, breathless and lust-drunk but cognizant enough to remember that Jaskier absolutely  _ hates _ it when he cums inside of him without a condom--if only because it requires so much effort to clean-up after the fact.

“Body… don’t’cha  _ stop _ my body…” he shifts a bit, drawing forward just enough to allow Geralt to begin fucking up into him with abandon. They lose all sense of rhythm, but it doesn’t really matter, because Jaskier is kissing him, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and rutting his leaking cock against his bare belly and  _ holy fucking shit,  _ that’s nice.

“J-Jule, I  _ really _ need an answer--,” Geralt pulls back, huffing as Jaskier lays his head on the other’s chest and laps at beads of sweat that pour down his neck and  _ slaps _ his hips back against every last thrust. They’re  _ really _ going to need a new bed after this. Or maybe they should just fuck the bed and throw the mattress straight on the floor. Maybe then the bitch next door would stop complaining about their headboard slamming into her wall at all hours…

“Go ahead and cum for me,  _ macho man _ .” Shit, that absolutely should  _ not _ be hot. He’s going to be hearing this song in his sleep for the rest of his goddamned life. “I have  _ plans _ for you.” Jaskier says, cornflower blue eyes flashing with mischief. 

“Only if you promise  _ never _ to call me that again.”

Jaskier chuckles, but makes no such promise as he clamps down  _ hard _ on Geralt’s cock, sinking his teeth into the thin skin stretched taut over his collarbone, and Geralt shudders, thrusts, and spends inside of his boyfriend. Jaskier is practically  _ purring _ , whispering filthy little things to the larger man as spurt after spurt of hot, thick seed fills him. He feels like he’s fucking  _ floating _ , his head lost somewhere up in the clouds--He doesn’t even notice when Jaskier cums, just comes too to the sensation of hot, tacky seed drying on his belly and a heavy, overly-affectionate boyfriend attempting to keep his softening cock inside of him whilst he works the handcuffs open. And it works… to a certain extent.

When Geralt’s wrists are free, Jaskier peppers them with soft, adoring kisses, massaging circulation back into the joints and applying cream where the skin appears red and chaffed. Geralt rolls his molten amber eyes and attempts to convince the other that he’s fine, but Jaskier will hear none of it. He’s not sure why the other insists on pitching a fit when he’s almost  _ always _ ignored. Geralt is absolutely awful when it comes to self-care, and Jaskier isn’t about to pass up a perfectly good opportunity to take care of his man when it presents itself. When he’s sure that Geralt’s wrists are in good shape, he rolls off of him, shuddering a bit as Geralt’s cum begins to ooze from his channel and slick his thighs.

“Well, what’re you waiting for, you big lug?” Jaskier turns, offering the other his best ‘come-hither’ look as he turns off the music--thank god--and begins walking toward the ensuite bathroom. “I expect you to put that thick tongue to work and give me a  _ thorough _ cleaning. If you do a good job, I might be persuaded to…  _ wash your back _ .”

“Wash my…” Geralt’s eyes widen as he watches Jaskier’s pierced tongue glide over his kiss-swollen lips, before he  _ pops _ his cheek in an absolutely  _ obscene _ gesture that answers every question the other may have had… and so much more. 

He didn’t think he’d ever been so excited to take a bath in his life. 


End file.
